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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640918">The Lowest Of His Low</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leathermxuth/pseuds/leathermxuth'>leathermxuth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Comforting Mickey Milkovich, Heavy Angst, Hurt Ian Gallagher, M/M, Men Crying, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leathermxuth/pseuds/leathermxuth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows he's hit the lowest of his low. He feels so fucking tired, even though he got a full ten hours of sleep last night. But he feels like he slept for five minutes instead. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Lowest Of His Low</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Y'all i started this at 2am and worked FOREVER on it. But this is a MAJOR TW!! Please read with caution!! I marked this as mature for a good reason!! </p><p>Also, this is kinda like a vent for me so yeah....</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He knows he's hit the lowest of his low. </span>
  <span>He feels so fucking tired</span>
  <span>, even though he got a full ten hours of sleep last night. But he feels like he slept for five minutes instead<em>.</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Mickey next to him, sleeping soundly. He feels like a burden to Mickey. Ian's been told many times that if Mickey didn't want him anymore, he'd tell him. But Ian can't help but feel that Mickey's going to get rid of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to face the wall, trying not to let his tears out. He tries to keep them in so he won't feel so fucking weak. Ian hates crying. He hates feeling numb afterwards and he hates the feeling of hopelessness too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" Mickey asks, sleep still thick in his voice. He reaches out for his redhead, wrapping his arm around Ian's waist and cuddles up with his chest to Ian's back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian's breath hitches and Mickey notices (why wouldn't Mickey notice).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mon man, gotta take your pills and eat," he says softly in the back of Ian's neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian doesn't respond. He just wants to scream to Mickey about how numb the pills make him. He wants to scream to him about how all he can think about when he takes his pills is </span>
  <em>
    <span>'what if I just overdosed and ended it now?' </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But, Ian feels like if he tries to speak that he'll end up crying. So he settles for shaking his head instead; which drains his energy by a lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey sighs when Ian shakes his head. And Ian knows it's a sad sigh. He could practically hear the sigh saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>"here we go again. Ian's refusing his meds. He's just like his mom." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey pulls Ian closer to his chest and squeezes him gently- like he's a porcelain doll- and whispers, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>please?</span>
  </em>
  <span> For me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows he can't ignore the guilt running through his body when the older boy says that. It makes him feel worse about himself because he knows he's dragging Mickey down with him through his hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His hell- his bipolar. His manic and depressive episodes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He manages a soft sigh that's barely audible, and it's followed by a croaked out "</span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Mickey press a soft, chaste kiss to the side of his neck before getting up and grabbing his pills, water, and a piece of toast from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't help but feel like shit for Mickey being stuck with him. He hated that Mickey took care of him so much. He felt weak and powerless. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It would be so much better when the pain ended</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew Mickey was back when he heard the door close gently- the smell of burnt bread filling his nose- and the feeling of the bed dipping behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. He kept telling himself that Mickey would leave him soon for being too much of a burden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried telling Mickey that Mickey would end up leaving him for being too much. It ended with them arguing and Ian crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>[1 month ago]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian and Mickey were watching some shitty TV show in the Milkovich living room. Ian had his head rested on Mickey's shoulder and the older boy was running his fingers through the red locks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey pressed a quick kiss to the red locks before going back to the TV. Ian sighed constantly at the affection (it was still new for them, but it was nice), and he leaned further into the older boy's side. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Although they were watching TV, Ian couldn't pay attention to what was on. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Instead, he was lost in his thoughts. They screamed things like </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>'Mickey doesn't love you,' </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>'Mickey's gonna leave you for being a burden,' </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>'Mickey won't care if you died. So just kill yourself.'</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He could feel his eyes tearing up, but he blinked them back. He hated crying. But he couldn't help the sniffles that came out. And those caught Mickey's attention. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"What's wrong, sniffles?" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian shook his head. He knew he couldn't tell Mickey how he felt and what he was thinking. He felt so numb and empty, and he was thinking that Mickey would leave him for burdening him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It didn't help Ian when Mickey moved so he could look right at him. He could feel Mickey's worried look burning holes into the side of his head. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It made him feel on fire. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>It hurt. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He felt Mickey's warm and soft hands tenderly cup his cheeks, forcing Ian to look into the depths of Mickey's oceanic eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>It was hypnotizing. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He felt a warm wetness roll down onto his cheeks, but they were quickly brushed away by Mickey's small thumbs. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours," the older boy practically whispered in the short space between them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian's eyes were glazed over with new unshed tears. He wanted to cry, but he hated the feeling afterwards. So he tried to blink them back. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey wouldn't stop looking in his eyes, and he felt bad. He felt bad because he knew Mickey was staring into eyes with a dead look to them; and it killed him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It killed him because his green eyes used to be filled with some sparkle with life, but now they were dead. It was almost like someone turned a light off inside of Ian's eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The younger boy sighed. "I…I'm sorry."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey looked at him with a confused look on his face. He didn't understand. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Why would he? </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>He didn't know how guilty Ian felt for just being there. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I-I'm sorry," he tries again, "I'm sorry that you-you're stuck…stuck with me." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey then let's go of his face and stands in front of the sad boy. On one hand; he's mad at Ian for thinking he's "stuck with him." But on the other hand; he's also not mad at Ian because he knows Ian's hurting and that he's doubting himself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Listen here fuckwad because I'll only say it once. I </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>chose </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>to stick with you, okay? If I didn't want you around I'd tell you-- but it's never gonna happen. I love you, and I'm sticking with you."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By the time Mickey finished talking, Ian couldn't hold in his sobs anymore and began to sob, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>hysterically. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He knows he can't stop the sobs coming out of his wrecked body. The sniffles were loud and his choked breaths broke Mickey's heart. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>He had never seen Ian cry. It hurt to watch. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey makes quick way to kneel in front of Ian, cupping his face once more. But Ian pushes his hands away and starts to walk into the kitchen, leaving Mickey back to standing in front of the couch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Ian," Mickey said softly. He took slow, small steps to where Ian was- standing next to the table. "C'mon Gallagher, talk to me."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian took in a shuddering breath before mumbling, "you shouldn't have to take care of me."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey looked at him with a raised eyebrow- like he didn't speak English all of a sudden- which honestly pissed off Ian as his tears started drying up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed in frustration when Mickey had asked, "what was that mumbles?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian hated being called that. Being called </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>mumbles</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. It reminded him too much of his first depressive episode.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> But being called that again created a new hurt for Ian. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Jesus fuck," he curses which makes the older boy flinch, "I said you shouldn't have to take care of me! Okay? I'm too much to handle and you should just leave me while you can!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey stood agaped at the boy. He felt like he was punched in the gut by Ian's words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>His words hurt more than when Ian wasn't on meds and told him to leave him alone. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of not being on meds… Mickey had a thought that could give some direction to Ian's mood…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You takin' your meds like you're supposed to?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The look on Ian's face after Mickey asked that looked like betrayal, hurt, and anger. He didn't want to be asked that question because the answer wasn't a good one… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>… he hasn't been taking his meds. He hid them so Mickey couldn't find them-- told him some bullshit story about "needing to be trusted." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It worked. Mickey had let Ian keep them hidden. He didn't flush them because sometimes he forgot they were there, and it's safer to not flush them so Mickey won't waste money to get new meds. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He went back to reality when he felt the familiar feeling of eyes burning holes into his head. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked at Mickey- who was in front of him- and waited for a response to his question. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Mick-" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Are you taking your fucking meds or not, fuckwad," he says angrily, scrubbing his hands over his face and sighing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Yes, Mickey! I'm on my stupid fucking meds," he lied. He knew Mickey didn't know where Ian put his meds (he put them in his pillow case), and he was grateful for that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey glared at him before saying, "okay firecrotch. Stay here and don't fucking move." </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian watched as his boyfriend went into the shared room and he tensed a little. He tensed because Mickey could find his full bottle of meds. But he was still pretty relaxed because Mickey wouldn't find where he put his meds. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or so he thought Mickey didn't know where his meds were. He was sadly mistaken when he saw Mickey walking out of the room, with Ian's still-full pill bottles. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian blanched and visibly tensed. His heart was beating a minute per mile and his eyes were wide and watering. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey got in his face, creating a too-thick tension between them. It was </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>almost suffocating. The air felt tainted. </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"So," Mickey says slowly but angrily, "how is it that if you're takin' your meds that the bottles are still full?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian felt cold. He knew he was trembling but he couldn't find it in him to care at the moment. He ignored the way his throat felt closed and how he was seconds away from crying again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey pushed Ian (carefully) onto a chair in the kitchen and spoke authoritatively.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You're taking your fucking meds now yourself or in gonna force them down your fucking throat."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ian sniffled before weakly sticking out his shaking hand out. Mickey roughly grabbed the boy's hand- rough enough that it might leave bruises- and put the right amount of pills in Ian's hands. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He went and filled up a cup of water from the tap before giving it to Ian so he could down his meds. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm sorry Mickey," Ian whispers when Mickey crouches in front of him. It's a broke whisper and he can feel himself starting to cry again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey pulled Ian down to him enough so he could wrap his arms around the younger man. Ian was fully sobbing again, but in Mickey's arms this time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"It's okay. It's not your fault, and I'm not mad at you," he comforted softly and sadly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They stayed intertwined in each other until Ian fell asleep from crying (and from his meds). Mickey carefully moved himself up and out of his sleeping boyfriend's arms. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He picked Ian up and Ian sleepily clung to his back as he was carried back to Mickey's room. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mickey put the boy he loves down on his bed gently and looked at him. He could see Ian with a haunted look on his face, even when he was sleeping. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It's like no matter what, Ian would always be haunted by his demons. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sight of Ian looking so haunted in his sleep broke Mickey's heart. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>[ End Of Flashback ]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt Mickey caress his shoulder before helping him into a sitting position on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He was tired. He had no energy. Tired. Tired. Tired. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That's all that played in Ian's mind as he sat up to take his meds (he ate less than half of his toast). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian hated feeling like he wanted to sleep forever. But as sad as it may have been, he did want to sleep forever and ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mick," Ian croaks, his voice horse from being disused for weeks. He went into a small coughing fit, while Mickey was patting and running his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took in a breath and willed himself to try speaking again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mick, I want…to shower."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey lit up a little with relief. He let out a breath that neither boys knew he was holding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, he soon started messing with his bottom lip, obviously meaning he was thinking about something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good," he starts with a smirk, "you were starting to smell worse than Frank."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian flipped him off with a small, sad smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Worse than Frank, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that's really fucking low. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it took a punch to his self-esteem. They both hated Frank and knew he smelt like Old Style and ball sweat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was worse than that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey slid off his bed and helped Ian stand. Ian's legs wobbled as Mickey led him to the bathroom. He turns the water on to a warm temperature for Ian's shower before going to leave, but not before asking, "I'm gonna go grab some towels and clean clothes. You good to start without me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian nods his head and gives Mickey a believable fake smile. Mickey gives him a quick nod before leaving the bathroom to go find towels and clean clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ian steps in the shower and sits on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He sees Mandy's forgotten razor and grabs it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's able to pop the blade out and he holds it in his shaking hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do it. Nobody's here in the room to stop you. Do it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes the blade to his left arm. He takes a shaky breath as he presses the blade into the skin of his left arm, crying out from the burning sensation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches as blood trickles down his arm quickly, and he makes another cut into his wrist below the first cut. It burns throughout his body, but right now he finally feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a few more cuts into his arm before Mickey pulls back the shower curtain- making Ian jump and drop the blade- and drops everything in his arms to grab Ian's bleeding arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ian! What- why- why'd you do this?!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey quickly turns off the water and grabs a towel to wrap around Ian's bleeding and cut arm. Ian starts crying and Mickey's got tears running down his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ian! Ian, fuck! Why'd you do this?!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-I can't take it anym-anymore M-Mick. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Ian's full on sobbing by this point and Mickey's silently crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He almost lost the love of his life. Why wouldn't he be crying?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Mickey pulls the sobbing boy into his shoulder. He's running one hand in the red hair, while the other hand is rubbing gently into the back of Ian's neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've got to go to a doctor's for this. You know that right," he asks softly- almost like a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels Ian nod weakly against him. "I know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls back a little to see Ian's face. His eyes are red and puffy, his nose is a little red, and he looks tired. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cups Ian's face and rests his forehead against Ian's; so their eyes make contact with each other. And so Ian knew what Mickey was going to say next was serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you. So fucking much. Promise me you won't do this ever again!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I promise Mickey. Never again. I love you too, so damn much."</span>
</p><p>
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</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Constructive comments and kudos appreciated! :)</p><p>Sorry if i made anyone cry! I'm kinda hoping i didn't though lol. </p><p>Fun fact: i hand wrote this before typing it in google docs and posting it here. Lmao. Well, hope you enjoyed it! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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